Nobody Better
by Kanna-Ophelia
Summary: After Roxy rumbles, Pizzazz realises it's necessary to make her realise just how important she is to the Misfits, or risk losing her for good. But Roxy is more concerned with how much Pizzazz herself really wants her... Femmeslash. *2nd chapter up. *
1. ain't nobody better

_**AN:** The Misfits and other characters and situations associated with **Jem!** are the property of Hasbro. I'm merely borrowing them for my own femmeslashy purposes, not seeking to make a profit or claim ownership. This story is set immediately after **Roxy Rumbles**, in which Roxy leaves the Misfits, only to be dragged back on contract grounds when they realise they can't do without her. _

For my wife, for whom Pizzazz/Roxy will always be an OTP.

Nobody Better

Pizzazz had almost knocked on the door before opening it. Even though she had ruthlessly crushed the impulse, there was an odd cold shudder somewhere in the base of her stomach at the realisation that she had actually raised her knuckles to the door, as if she was asking permission to enter.

Nervousness had a shaming tendency to make her polite. Something about the whole retreat to childhood thing. Phyllis Gabor had had it well drilled into her head to knock at doors before opening them, to avoid disturbing Mommy at her socialising or resting or Daddy at his important work. Pizzazz, on the other hand, never knocked, because she had a perfect right to be exactly where she decided she was going to be.

And if anyone was going to change that, it sure as hell wouldn't be that ungrateful little bitch of a Roxy. Pizzazz pushed open the door.

Roxy sat up in bed in a kind of scrambling jump. "Whaddaya _want_, 'Zazz?" Her tone was not exactly welcoming, but more startled than hostile. Pizzazz didn't blame her. No one dared broach Roxy in her lair until she'd sent for a pot of coffee and had a chance to do her hair and makeup. It wasn't worth the risk.

Pizzazz wondered how to answer the question, as she absent-mindedly fluffed her hair. She was closer to the other Misfits than she had ever been to her own family, but she that didn't mean she was willing to let them perceive her as a wimp – not, knowing as she did, what that would mean to her position in the group. So it was impossible to admit that she'd wanted to see her friend back in her proper room, to reassure herself that the Misfits were back together for good. That she'd dreamed Roxy had taken off again during the night, leaving no trail and not bothering to even say farewell and fuck you all this time around.

She fell back on playing concerned friend and leader, a role that had never quite fit her comfortably. But after all, it was very important that Roxy didn't consider quitting the Misfits again, and the job of ensuring she was happy to be back naturally enough fell to their leader.

"I just missed you, sweetie." she said at last. For once, the high sweet tones she reserved for flirting or manipulation. the notes fell on her own ears in ways that made it hard to ignore how insincere she sounded, and she flinched, hoping Roxy didn't notice.

"Yeah, I bet." Roxy swung her legs out of the bed, grinding her fists into her eyes like a little girl. The oversized men's styled pyjamas she wore only made her look younger.

"Oh, but I did miss you. Truly." Pizzazz began to pick her way across strewn clothes, lipsticks and blankets to the four poster bed. There was nothing really unusual about the chaos, because even Stormer could trash a room in under thirty minutes, and Roxy had some strange objection to servants picking up after her. But still, after only one day and one night back, this level of mess was impressive.

All would have gone well if Pizzazz hadn't caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the one wardrobe door, and realised just how gorgeous she looked, fully made up but still in the black negligee she slept in. Pizzazz essayed a seductive sashay for her own benefit. Gorgeous… Her eyes riveted on her own reflection, she forgot to check for bare floor t put her bare feet down on. On her fourth sashay, when a blindingly sharp pain stabbed into the sole of one bare foot, she swore at the top of her considerable vocal chords, and half leaped, half collapsed, to the bed.

Strong hands grasped her shoulders and dragged her up into a sitting position. "Real slick moves. Are you okay? Pizzazz?" Roxy seemed reluctantly worried, which had to be a good thing. Pizzazz was struck by how young she looked, unteased hair hanging around a face innocent of makeup. It was strange… The Misfits had lived together ever since Roxy and Stormer had found out just how well-off their leader was and had moved in as a matter of course, but it had still been years since she had seen Roxy without the flares of purple, yellow and orange decorating her face. Without them, she appeared far less the beautiful thug and more an ordinary pretty girl, a good deal of her veneer of toughness scrubbed off along with the garish colour.

Her purple eyes flared red at the edges, but that was probably because she had just woken up. Crying herself to sleep would not be like Roxy at all.

"So what's with you now?" Roxy pushed back sleep-mussed platinum hair. "There something on my face?"

Pizzazz turned away from that blearily accusing gaze, seeking for the source of her accident to vent her irritation on. She was looking for something along the lines of a meat cleaver, but a quick check of her upturned foot proved that, despite the agonising pain, her skin had not actually been broken. The lamp that should have been on the bedside table was flung on the floor, and Pizzazz suspected that she had trodden on the metal circle that usually held the globe, which was… she looked around. There, lying smashed in the corner.

It was curious, now she came to think of it. It would take considerable force to fling the thing so far, and Roxy, after all, slept alone.

"I trod on your stupid lamp. Why did you break it, anyway? Were you trying to kill me?"

"It got in my way, so I chucked it against the wall." Pizzazz nodded. That was a perfectly acceptable explanation. Although it still left the question of what Roxy was doing, to so be distracted by a lamp…

She turned back to Roxy, and realised anew just how close they were sitting, with Roxy's hands still grasping her shoulders. If Pizzazz leaned forward just a little, they would be hugging. And there was nothing abnormal in that, because the Misfits had always been somewhat cuddly and Roxy had always been her closest partner in time, only… they were not usually sitting on Roxy's bed after a bad quarrel and awkward reunion. Not that it made any difference.

She caught herself staring at the kissable indentation of Roxy's clavicle, just above the top button of her pyjama top. Silly to behave like this just because Roxy seemed unusually vulnerable. She was the same touchy young woman without makeup, after all, and Pizzazz had no doubt that if she pushed her luck, Roxy would attempt to smash her face in. Pizzazz had no doubt that she would win eventually, but fist fights were bad for group morale, and it was expensive to restore the perfection of a profile after a broken nose. Besides, the whole idea of this visit was to endear herself to Roxy, not throw her into a tantrum.

Only… Eric had been laughing over something Roxy's "friends" in Philadelphia had told his spies, and it was remarkably difficult to get out of her head. Especially when Roxy was so mussed and sleepy and heartbreakingly cute.

Pizzazz hated feeling uncomfortable and unsure of herself. It was completely abnormal, especially in the presence of another Misfit. She turned her head away, and began using her fingertip to make swirls in the spilled face powder on the bedside table. Roxy's hands slid off her shoulders and down her arms, to rest on the bed. .

"Pizzazz… really, what do you want? Because I haven't had my coffee yet," Roxy added, tragedy thrumming through her voice. "Not even a cup" Her voice sharpened suddenly. "And if I don't get caffeine soon, I may have to kill someone."

Pizzazz looked at the patterns her finger had traced, and smiled in recognition. She turned her head with calculated indolence, her lids dropping over her eyes and her hand feeling for Roxy's on the bed. She looked up, very slowly, through heavily mascara'd lashes into suspicious violet eyes, and smiled, caressing the top of Roxy's hand with tiny movements of her fingertips.

"You wouldn't kill _me_, Roxy. Not when Jetta's so conveniently close, anyway." She wasn't sure if it was working. Roxy was still scowling at her, but she hadn't moved her hand away.

"I came here to see if there's anything I can do for you, honey… I wanted to give you a reason to stay with the group." Her voice was soft, but she put so much husky breath behind them that one of the strands of snowy hair was lifted from Roxy's face, settling slowly down against her skin.

"Oh, yeah? Do I get a Porsche?"

"Of course you do," Pizzazz said sweetly, happy at having the chance to play fairy godmother offered so easily and make her friend all grateful and pliant, then realised that all her band mate's smile had to do with fairytale princesses was that it was also reminiscent of dragons. She cursed silently, curling her mouth into a disgusted snarl. She had only just resolved never to underestimate Roxy's intelligence again, too. And Roxy had never quite grasped the concept of gratitude in the first place.

Pizzazz quickly changed tacks. "You could have a Porsche the minute you ask for it, you know that. But that's not what I meant at all. You're not as easy to fool as Stormer, you know," she added with syrupy flattery.

"So I guess you have to work harder to fool me."

"Roxy! How could you say that?" Pizzazz opened her green eyes wide. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not trust _you_, Pizzazz? How could you say that?" Roxy's chin dimpled, and for a moment Pizzazz thought the other girl was going to break down and giggle. Instead, she lifted her chin, a faint smile on her lips. "It don't matter. I got my own convertible now."

"Yeah, I noticed. It's gorgeous." Pizzazz was becoming impatient. "So aren't you even a little tiny bit curious about what I've come here to offer you?"

Roxy's gaze fell to their hands, Pizzazz's fingers still softly stroking and tickling the sensitive places between the tendons of her hands, and Pizzazz's gaze followed. Roxy had strong, square hands, and she wore her nails short. Pizzazz had thought that had something to do with specialising in bass guitar, but new information opened other possibilities. She herself rather ran to inch-long magenta talons, but she had clipped them to the quick last night, for reasons that of course had nothing to do with anything Eric had told her. She wondered if Roxy noticed, and wondered what had inspired the change in style. It had been stupid of her, anyway.

"I guess you want to make sure I don't run out again. Why do you care, anyway? I had to come back – Eric had me under contract." Her voice was bitter, and the corners of her mouth dropped like a scolded child. Pizzazz was more affected than she had expected to be, to the point of feeling passing guilt for the things she had said to her friend before the split. Who would have known Roxy, of all people, would be so sensitive?

"I know you would've come back anyway. We all missed you." She wrapped Roxy around with warm words, wanting to wrap her arms around her as well and not quite daring. "Stormer cried all the time when you left." It was only a slight exaggeration.

"I bet Jetta was happy to see me go." She was still pouting, but the line of her mouth had relaxed a little.

"Nah, she missed you like crazy, even if she didn't want to admit it." Pizzazz swivelled on the bed slightly, so that she could stroke back some of Roxy's flat, sleep-mussed hair without ceasing the rhythmic caress on her hand. She kept her fingers wound in the platinum white. "And _I_ missed you. Misfits are family, Roxy. We can't do without any of us."

Roxy looked up at that. Her lips, oddly soft pink without her usual thick orange lipstick, parted, but no words came out. Pizzazz's breath waited on the answer. Eventually Roxy coloured and said, "The Misfits used to do just great without a saxophonist." She pulled her hand away, and clenched it in her lap.

"Don't start that crap again." Pizzazz's voice was sharper than she had meant it to be, whetted by disappointment. "Jetta's part of the group. And so are you, whether you like it or not." Her voice had regained the consistency of melted sugar, but she was becoming frustrated and a little panicked. Maybe Eric had been right… Maybe Roxy really was finished with playing second fiddle in the Misfits, and was just biding her time until she found a way to wriggle out of her contract. Heaven knows, she was a good enough musician and vocalist, and certainly attractive enough, to make it in another band or as a solo artist…

There was no way she would be allowed to walk out of Pizzazz again. She'd just have to be persuaded she was a Misfit to the core. And if nothing but sensitivity would do that, Pizzazz could be exactly as sensitive as she was required to be. All Stormer had wanted was to know she was wanted, and maybe, despite her prickly attitude, Roxy was aiming at the same.

Perhaps the reason the conversation was going badly, Pizzazz realised, was that Roxy had never really been much good with long conversations. She became bored too easily. Pizzazz was as much a mistress at wheedling or persuading to get her own way as she was at throwing tantrums until her opponents gave in, but Roxy had always been more comfortable with actions than words. She had seemed to soften a little when Pizzazz caressed her hand…

Maybe there were more straightforward ways to show Roxy she was appreciated and wanted.

Pizzazz reached around Roxy with her arms, one hand resting on the small of her back, and one on her stomach, and deposited a soft kiss on her cheek. The other girl stiffened but did not actually pull away, so Pizzazz kissed her again, letting her lips linger a little longer on the smooth warm skin this time. Sans earring, Roxy's earlobe looked rather appealingly round and pink, so without really thinking about it, Pizzazz kissed that, too. It slipped between her lips for a heartbeat, and she wondered rather nervously if Roxy had realised that was accidental, but put it out of her mind, along with her split-second temptation to bite.

"I'm glad you're back, Roxy," she said, which come to think of it she should have said the day before… But better late than never. She put her head down on a sillk-pyjama'd shoulder, and cuddled the other girl, willing her to return the embrace. One hug, and she'd know she'd won, and Roxy belonged to the Misfits again.

"Pizzazz – why've you gone so soppy all of a sudden?"

"I told you, honey. I missed you. And I want you to know you're appreciated, and give you a reason to stay." She lifted her head again a little to deposit a kiss on Roxy's lips. It felt rather nice.

"Oh." Roxy stared hard at her for a long moment, a rather intimidating purple glare. Pizzazz met it with wide-opened eyes as innocent as catlike green could ever hope to become. Then she felt arms slide around her own waist, and was hugged tight. "I hate to say it, but I kinda missed you too, 'Zazz. I even missed Jetta."

Her leader smirked with satisfaction. There it was… She knew she'd get her own way eventually. Roxy was hers lock, stock and barrel. Smugly, she patted Roxy on the back. "I forgive you," she said munificently.

"Yeah. Thanks." Roxy was laughing at her, she was almost sure of it, but for once she didn't care. She'd won…

The soft kiss on her cheek caught her by surprise, but it was pleasant and flattering to have her caress returned. She snuggled closer, and enjoyed the gentle kisses Roxy was planting on the side of her face. Unlike Roxy to be quite so affectionate, but it was undoubtedly very pleasant. She couldn't remember ever being kissed with such softness, Roxy's lips apparently slightly parted as they lingered on her skin, and… that was almost definitely the brush of a tongue. Pizzazz froze, but it was difficult to tell, and if Roxy's tongue was touching her, it was for no more than a fraction of a heartbeat in each soft kiss. She sat unmoving as Roxy's lips travelled up the side of her face and kissed her earlobe, once, twice, then caught it between her teeth and sucked gently and wetly.

"Roxy!" she gasped, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"Mmm? Yeah?" Roxy released the earlobe, and Pizzazz felt the warm wet swipe of a tongue across her ear. Some strangled sound escaped her throat despite herself, and anything she might have said was lost in Roxy's mouth leaving her ear and coming to press firmly against her lips.

**tbc**


	2. than the girl you're talkin' to

**...than the girl you're talkin' to...**

Pizzazz had only enough time to wonder how the hell Roxy expected her to answer anything while she was being kissed, before she found herself pushed back on the bed, Roxy sliding one leg across her thighs to hold her in place. Well, all right. She could wait for a little while before she said anything, Pizzazz decided, putting one arm around Roxy's waist to settle her into a more comfortable position. It would show terrible manners to push her away, especially when the pressure of Roxy's mouth was crushing her lips so beautifully. She would protest the moment the kiss ended. But this was nice, so nice… She wasn't sure she'd ever been kissed hard enough and demandingly enough in her life, and Roxy was just sweetly brutal enough to satisfy her. 

Roxy pulled her mouth away for a heartbeat and kissed her again, each hand on the bed at the side of Pizzazz's head as she kissed her again and again. Well, she'd missed her chance that time, but she'd say something… eventually… She tilted up her chin to meet the kisses more quickly, vaguely aware that her arm had slid down from Roxy's waist and that she could feel a rounded curve pressing against her hand, and squeezed involuntarily. 

Roxy thrust against her hip in response and bit her mouth, hard. Pizzazz half squealed in shock, and finally felt the warm wetness of a tongue pressing against her bruised lips. 

So the little brat thought she could gain control like this… Pizzazz was half amused and half outraged, entirely aroused. She opened her mouth wide, and pushed her tongue hard against Roxy's, thrusting hard and sweetly into her mouth. When she heard the strangled moan she elicited, she smiled into the kiss and increased its intensity, raising her hands to tangle in thick hair and hold her friend's head still for her mouth to be ravished. 

When she was sure Roxy had given in completely and was helplessly surrendered to the kiss, she pulled her head back up by her handfuls of hair. 

"What the hell do you think you're trying on, Roxy?" 

For a moment, Roxy had looked like she might have in another, sweeter life, flushed and sleepy-eyed, her parted lips smeared with the remnants of Pizzazz's magenta lipstick. Then her scowling pout clicked back on, as if her soft expression had been snap-frozen. 

"What am I trying on? What the fuck do you think I'm doing, Pizzazz?" A lock of loose hair fell into Roxy's mouth, and she spat it out. "I'm taking you up on your offer." 

Pizzazz blinked, genuinely taken aback. The spat-out hair was tickling her face, but she didn't want to let go in order to wipe it away. For some reason, keeping her grip on the other girl's hair was very important. "What offer?" 

For a moment she expected to be hit. Then Roxy rather gracelessly pulled her leg from Pizzazz's, prevented from moving further way by the hands tightened to fists in her hair. They must have been hurting her, but she didn't protest. "I guess… I guess I misunderstood." 

Something about the way Roxy's lashes were dropping over those purple eyes made Pizzazz feel as if she'd been hit in the gut by a handbag filled with ice cubes. "Misunderstood what, you dumb bitch?" Not a very tactful way to phrase the question, she realised, but at least Roxy looked actively furious now instead of cold and sullen, the violet ice hissing into steam. 

"I dunno, 'Zazz." Her voice was far louder than it needed to be, considering their close proximity. "You turn up in my bedroom half-dressed, snuggle up to me, tell me that you're going to show me how appreciated I am and that you'll give me a reason to stay with the group, and start kissing me. No idea how I misunderstood." 

Pizzazz stared blankly up at her, replaying the last few minutes in her mind, and started to laugh. No, not laugh, nothing like her normal shrieking amusement, but giggle. She shook with it, the giggles getting caught under her ribcage and hurting, so that she was forced to release her handfuls of platinum and press her fists under her own breasts. She trembled with paroxysms as Roxy rolled off her entirely and sat up on the bed, staring down and chewing her lower lip, as if trying to decide if Pizzazz was hysterical enough to justify slapping her face. 

Or possibly just deciding whether she dared slap her leader for her own satisfaction, hysterical or not. 

"Roxy, dear?" Pizzazz asked in her cutest little-girl voice, once the giggles had subsided to something like hiccups. They still hurt, but not so badly. 

"What?" 

She held up one hand. Her nails looked like tiny pink shells, nothing like she would normally recognise as belonging to her fingers. "Look." 

Long silvery lashes blinked in confusion. "Pizzazz, you sure you're feeling okay?" 

"Yeah." She didn't bother to sit up. "Eric was right about you, that's all. And I didn't cut them for nothing." Her hand dropped and caught Roxy's own, tightening when she made a half-hearted attempt to pull it away. Her nails were now too short to dig satisfactorily into her skin. "I didn't actually come in here to seduce you," she said, realising suddenly exactly what she must have looked like, wearing a black negligee and crawling all over another girl. It was an odd feeling, trying to slip under someone else's skin. Pizzazz's interest in other people's feelings usually only went as deep as assuming they were either bedazzled by her, scared of her, or jealous - or all three. "I didn't even realise you were a dyke, although I don't know how I missed the obvious, really." 

Her voice rose suddenly, harshening. "And I don't whore myself to anyone, not even for the Misfits." 

"Sorry." It sounded like a curse, spat from magenta-smeared lips. "Guess you'd better clear out then." 

Pizzazz ignored the suggestion. "And now all that's settled, Roxy honey, get back down here and let's make love." She gave her sunniest smile. 

"Don't think so." 

Pizzazz was genuinely taken aback. "Why - why not?" She hated herself for stuttering. She never stuttered. But she had really not been expecting a rejection at this point. 

Roxy was not looking at her, quite determinedly not looking at her by the looks of it. "It's just not fun anymore, 'kay? Go on, Pizzazz. I'll see you at rehearsal this afternoon." 

Fuck, fuck, and fuck again. Pizzazz sat up, and wrapped her arms around the other girl's neck, trying to repress the panic that told her that if she waited until this afternoon, Roxy would be back in Philadelphia, or somewhere else she might be impossible to trace. "C'mon, Roxy. What'd I do?" She kissed the base of her throat, very gently. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself a few minutes ago." 

"Yeah. Well." 

Pizzazz cursed whatever powers had failed to give her a more articulate best friend. Pretty, yes, a multitalented musician and a dab hand at exploding things, but not exactly fluent, at least not at moments of what was quite possibly tender emotion. "Tell me why you're so upset, Roxy, or I'll kick you across the room." 

It seemed to work. Roxy pushed her away, giving her a look that was half tearful and half blazing hatred, and said, "I thought for a moment I was getting what I'd always wanted. That's all." 

Pizzazz considered this. "Is it really what you wanted? All I ever really wanted," she said dreamily, "was for people to throw themselves at my feet and worship me." 

"Not me." Roxy glared at her. "I don't fling myself at anyone's feet. And besides, Pizzazz... I don't think you'd really like it. Not from me, anyway. You kick people when they're under your feet." 

"No. You're a Misfit, you don't count. And... yeah." Great. Even Roxy was more articulate than she was, apparently. 

"Yeah." Roxy stared back at her. "And - Pizzazz?" 

"Yeah?" This conversation had become stuck somewhere, Pizzazz was sure of it. They would spend the next half hour saying "yeah" at intervals, when they could be doing... other things. Nicer things. She contemplated just launching herself at Roxy, to see what would happen. Even a fist fight would be better than this. 

"Get out of my room." 

Pizzazz looked blankly at her a moment, considered hitting her, considered kissing her, and instead snarled, "Have it your way, Roxy. But don't even consider walking out on the Misfits again." She stood up and flounced over to the door, only slightly impaired by taking care not to trip on any of the junk this time. Fortunately, she'd had practice walking across her own bedroom floor. 

She paused in the door way, the handle still in her grasp. "And it's _my_ room!" She slammed the door hard, and let the shriek of fury out, kicking the door hard and smashing her fists against it in a soul-cleansing tantrum. 

Finally her rage dimmed a bit, and the furious tattoo of her fists tailed off. She was still having difficulty processing why she'd been rejected. Stupid Roxy… she'd _said_ she wanted her, hadn't she? So why was Pizzazz alone in the hallway, wet and aching and increasingly frustrated? 

She covered her face with her hands and leaned against Roxy's door, sighing. 

"Tough night for you two?" Pizzazz looked up into amused grey eyes. 

**~TBC~**


End file.
